


Broken toys

by vermicious_knid



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-11 10:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermicious_knid/pseuds/vermicious_knid
Summary: But the fact is that Jane makes him, Mr. Nobody – a man capable of twisting reality itself, uncomfortable.It is not because of her powers, not exactly.





	Broken toys

If there is one thing that Eric Morden has, it is time.

 

He lives outside of time, after all.

 

Even in the wake of something like the apocalypse, there is still time – to destroy, devour, or in this case, go back in time and find one of Jane’s many personas, that particular one that will start a cult and create a god.

 

It’s not his perfect idea of fun, but if the apocalypse does happen, he won’t have any more toys left to play with.

* * *

 

But when Chief suggested it, he hovers. For reasons not entirely comprehensible, even to him.

 

But the fact is that Jane makes him, Mr. Nobody – a man capable of twisting reality itself, uncomfortable.

 

It is not because of her powers, not exactly.

 

* * *

 

When he first came across her, months before that, he barely bothered even noticing what or who she was.

 

Then later, In preparation for getting into their heads, he was a fly on every wall of the mansion. He gathered up information like easter eggs that were too easy to find. It was so easy in fact, that sometimes he even came there in human form to gloat.

 

Once, he did something so juvenile as to sample the scotch from the decanter in their living room. It was sometime in the middle of the night, not that time mattered to him. He never did sleep.

 

”You’re a stranger.” a small voice had said in the dark.

 

When he turned around to face the speaker, a quip on the tip of his tongue, he stopped himself at the sight of not-quite-Jane in pigtails, clutching a small blanket in her hand. She rubbed at her eyes and looked at him.

 

He could have just snapped his fingers and put her to sleep, then and there. He could have made her entrails explode. But he didn’t.

 

”I’m a very good friend of the family.”

 

”Really?” she asks, sounding beyond hopeful – but why he has no idea.

 

”Yep, and I also know that little girls should not stay up past their bedtime. So...shoo.” he says, dismissively waving his hand at her. But she firmly shakes her head, pigtails shaking.

 

”Nuh uh. I don’t wanna go back up there. It’s dark.”

 

”Of course it’s dark. It’s supposed to be.”

 

She pouted, and then looked behind her for a long moment – as if she had caught someone watching them.

 

”It’s scary. I don’t like it.”

 

He rolls his eyes heavily and contemplates blowing her up after all. But that would end his game prematurely. He can’t have that.

 

”It depends how you look at it, hm? ” he asks her, somewhat annoyed now. She only looks up at him like he just gave her a pop quiz on russian philosophy.

 

”I don’t understand. Will you walk me up the stairs? Please?”

 

Why her use of the word _please_ should have any effect on him whatsovever is ridiculous. He groans and swallows the last of the scotch in his glass. It’s easier to go along with this if he’s a little drunk. She grabs his hand before he even has a chance to offer it (not that he was planning on it) and together they walk down the long hallway and then, just as the base of the stairs, she suddenly stops.

 

He looks down at her, swaying a little on the spot.

 

”What is it now? ” he drawls, tipsy and careless. She tugs on his hand and urges him to whisper. She looks up towards the stairs like she is seeing someone there, on the top steps. Her eyes flicker, deep shadows under each eye, the proof of little sleep to begin with.

 

”I just heard him. I don’t want him to be up there.”

 

”Who?”

 

She shrugs, but as she does she starts going up the steps, tugging him along.

 

”He’s not even my daddy, but still he tries. I see him in my room sometimes, standing in the corner. I don’t like him at all.”

 

He understands of course who she means. And it doesn’t bother him – even though he swallows, and keeps staring down at her. Perhaps it is the way she says it so casually, _I see him in my room sometimes._

 

He doesn't leave immediately when they come to her room. He comments on her stuffed animals, on the planets hung from her ceiling. He nods and laughs a little awkwardly.

 

”They’re nice.”

 

”I know, but I’m missing Pluto – I think it fell down.” She says, sleep now thick in her voice, but her eyes remain wide open, and even though she’s sitting on the bed, he knows she won’t sleep.

 

He watches her for a long moment, almost falling asleep himself on the spot (more from being drunk than anything else) then quite suddenly he asks ”Do you like dogs?” Which is a perfectly good question to ask.

 

”I love dogs!” she exclaims at once, as he suspected she would.

 

It’s a simple enough thing, too simple really. He doesn’t even need to snap his fingers.

 

”Hmm, there might be one in your closet. Just thought you should know.” he says casually, before he leaves without another word.

 

 

 


End file.
